


...and a Chipped Cup

by Captain_Jane_Harkness



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Angst, Complete, F/M, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-05
Updated: 2016-07-05
Packaged: 2018-07-21 15:30:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7393132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Captain_Jane_Harkness/pseuds/Captain_Jane_Harkness
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What Mr. Gold did after he first heard Emma's name and regained his memories.  One-shot angst.</p>
            </blockquote>





	...and a Chipped Cup

Mr. Gold sighed as he sat up in bed before wincing. Today seemed to be one of those days when his bum leg decided it would act up on him. Swinging his legs over, he hissed when his feet hit the cold floor. Damn his old house. He’d forgotten to turn up the heat again last night and his leg would now pay for it all day. Looking to his clock, he saw the date glaring at him: October 24, 6:30 am. At least there was that, he thought darkly. Today, he collected the rent. 

He really should have hired someone to do it for him, especially on days like this, but there was always a need in him to do it personally. This way, he could spread his own misery around. There was also the added benefit of making sure all remembered his face, and why they had right to fear it.

As he dressed, Mr. Gold realized there was something else about this day. Yesterday he had woken with a great sense of anticipation, but today he couldn’t remember why. He couldn’t place it. It just hovered on the edge of his memory. He frowned, pausing as he buttoned his shirt. Maybe it was the day he had the accident? He didn’t remember much of that day either, the car crash that had left him lame and constantly reminded him that life is pain. There was snow in the memory, loud noises, vague memories of a dirty hospital, and, of course, her. It wasn’t impossible for it to have happened in October, but it didn’t feel right. Nothing seemed to feel right these days.

It could always be connected to her he thought angrily, throwing the silk fabric of his tie around to make the knot. Maybe it was the day she left, he thought again, tugging the knot into place too roughly and making him have to do it over again. Yet another day he couldn’t seem to remember. All he knew was that love was a fraud, marriage a mistake, and that he could thank whatever power in this miserable world existed that he hadn’t spawned any children with the bitch. He would have been a shit father anyway.

The day passed, continuing to irritate him with the frustrating feeling that he had forgotten something important. How long had he felt this way? Days? He couldn’t even estimate which only seemed to add to his frustration. The short walk to Granny’s from the road would do him good. For some reason, he always took a sick delight in letting the old woman grow comfortable and think he’d forgotten a month. There was also the potential of hearing one of the many heated arguments between her and her granddaughter if he came by later in the night. The girl could certainly string together insults at times. Barely hiding his disgust with how she kept the grounds, Mr. Gold hiked through the little wilderness and up the stairs. He opened the door just in time to see the old woman open her ledger to welcome a blonde woman with a room. 

Gold hung back, resting his hands on his cane, preparing an insult and a jibe in his mind.

“Swan, Emma Swan,” the woman said.

“Emma,” Gold repeated, shocking everyone and himself, as all eyes came to rest on him. “What a lovely name.”

“Thanks,” Emma said, half over her shoulder.

Gold just smiled. There was something about that name. Only careful practice kept the frown from appearing on his face as he repeated the name over and over in his mind. Where had he heard it before? Then it hit him. 

“It’s all here,” ‘Granny’ said, extending the carefully counted rent.

“Yes of course it is dear,” he said, reaching out to accept it, looking down for a moment to keep the shock from his face. Different faces threatened to overlap the now familiar Storybrooke ones.

“You enjoy your stay,” Gold said, shocking himself with his remaining calm, reminding himself to keep his voice low and steady, as he carefully enunciated her name, “Emma.”

Bowing his head as his mind furiously worked to reconcile both of his lives, he turned for the door. He narrowed his eyes slightly at Ruby, Red Riding Hood a cackling voice in his head echoed, before Rumpelstiltskin opened the door and limped down the stairs.

Damn her. Damn that slip of a girl, damn everything he’d taught her. She thought it fitting to give him his limp back, did she? The name kept repeating in his head, unlocking memories as it repeated. Eventually, Emma stopped repeated, replaced by Rumpelstiltskin . Stopping short on the sidewalk, he frowned. Memories kept flooding him, overlapping and explaining the last 28 years of his miserable existence. His “good life” lay to the right, complete with the estate the girl had promised him. It didn’t matter that he had wanted something else. But he hadn’t been stupid enough to correct her when she thought the Dark One’s idea of a good life would be things. He didn’t need to go there now though. It was late, but he didn’t care.

The walk to his car was short, but the drive to the pawnshop seemed to go by in a breath. All he heard and saw was Bae’s voice. He’d done it. He was in this world. He was here. All he needed was to set his affairs in order and then break the curse. Easier said than done perhaps, but he had spent over a century, practically three, searching for a way and now it was here. So many years of waiting. He practically ran the few steps up to the shop door. His hands shook in anticipation as he turned the lock. He would get his son back. He had promised, and he would fulfill it. He would find his son.

Then the door opened and the bell chimed.

Gold froze. The bell. Belle.

His forward motion stopped instantly as sorrow turned his stomach. Slowly, carefully, he took the final two steps into the shop. The door closed behind him, the bell ringing out again as a nauseating reminder. Rumpelstiltskin looked at the shelves of his shop with new eyes. The dolls, the lamp, the chess set, Bae’s ball, so many objects, so many deals, everything had so many memories. As he scanned, his stomach tightened. The tea set in the glass case wasn’t even close to what he was looking for. The feelings of determination that had buoyed him through his returning memories turned to panic. It wasn’t here.

Tearing forward, he broke into the backroom, frantically scanning the shelves. Mr. Gold had no memory of it. Why did he have no memory of it? Rumpelstiltskin sent boxes flying down from the shelves, tearing through meaningless memories, balls of fleece, antique coins, glass vials, and obscure trinkets. Any area of the shop that he had no memory of, he tore through. Any memory that was hazy, he ripped into.

Gold did not know how much time had passed, boxes and shelves emptied around him on the floor, but one thought froze him, elbow deep in a tall cardboard box. Frowning, he fished underneath an upturned basket for his cane. Clearing away three framed landscapes, he used it to haul himself up from the floor.

Hoping beyond hope, he crossed to where he kept his safe, where Mr. Gold kept his safe. Pushing the portrait open, his hand shook when he turned the key. Please, please, please, he thought, the litany of words a prayer to whoever would hear. As Mr. Gold, he’d never had to make good really on any of the contracts stored here. The dates always seemed inconsistent. He would need to soon, time had begun once again. For now, he threw the papers out of the safe like garbage, reaching his arm into the back. His heart stopped when his fingers brushed across cloth. Drawing out the carefully wrapped object, he drew it carefully into his chest, cradling it tight. Knowing what he’d find, he unwrapped the fabric from around the delicate china cup in his hand.

His cane clattered uselessly to the ground and he stumbled back into the counter behind him, using it to help him stand. The trembling started in his shoulders as the cloth fell to the floor and both hands came up to cup the sides of the tiny china thing, his thumbs smoothing over the surface, remembering the familiar texture. For 28 years, he hadn’t seen it, but it was like yesterday. His fingers ghosted over the chip, polished smooth from hours of similar actions.

He remembered everything. He remembered Belle first trying to serve tea, the first awkward smile that he caused to light her face. He remembered the first time he made her laugh, the first time he made her really, truly, smile. He could remember her voice like it was yesterday. A sad smile crossed his face as he stared down at the cup, but he wasn’t seeing it any longer. Instead his memories took him back to a time when he lived in a castle and a princess served him tea in a chipped cup. A princess who was everything he would never be. She was brave, beautiful, good. She was everything. And she had loved him.

Something wet hit his hand and Rumpelstiltskin startled. Realizing what had struck his hand suddenly made the tears flow easier, and before he knew it, his leg had completely given out and he slid down the counter until he came to rest sitting on the floor. She had loved him. Beautiful, kind, brave, stupid girl that she was, she had loved him. Clutching his last memory to his chest, he ran a furious hand through his hair as he let the tears flow. He shouldn’t have let it happen. She had loved him and now she was… She was dead. She shouldn’t have loved him. He had tried. He shouldn’t have loved her at all. Bad things happened to bad people. She had paid the price for him having happiness. 

Gold’s head rested back on the counter with a small thud as the tears ebbed. The pain was so raw. Every new memory was just like it was yesterday. He had waited so long, and given so much to get here. He’d even given up a girl stupid enough to fall in love with a monster. So much of him wanted to think that she deserved it. She shouldn’t have fallen in love with him. Why had she done that? He laughed wetly. It had been his fault too. He’d fallen for her after all. He should have known better. Nothing good lasted. She had left and she had died.

He didn’t know how long he stayed there, hands clenched so tightly around the chipped cup that he almost couldn’t feel them any longer. All he knew was that somehow he’d had the presence of mind to put the stacks of paper back in the safe before he locked it. He’d swung the portrait back, left the shop, and locked it before driving home. Still numb, he’d managed to climb the stairs to his home. He even remembered to lock the door behind him. Hating how much it felt like the last time he had memorialized her, he limped through the archway to his left.

Rumpelstiltskin had thought he’d done it so well. He’d begun the right way anyway. He’d thrown her in the dungeon. He’d tried to scare her, frighten her. But it hadn’t worked, not even from the start. He hadn’t been able to keep it up and she would simply smile, shake her head, and he was lost. She had crept up on him. Her optimism, her way of looking at the world, everything she said made him want to believe there was another way.

Slowly, he opened the glass doors to his china cabinet before carefully placing the tiny cup in the center of the top shelf, with a lovely china plate behind it. It belonged there. Like it was meant to be there. Gold had no memory of it because Gold would have thrown it away. Stepping back, he just looked at it. Her chipped cup was all he had of her, the only proof that she hadn’t been a delusion of his deteriorating mind. Rumpelstiltskin gripped his cane with white knuckles. She was gone. He needed to move on, move on with the plan to break the curse. He should sleep, prepare himself for seeing Regina again and know her for who she really was, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away. There were many things he should do.

When the sun finally rose, lighting the glass panes of the china cabinet and shining on the cup that memorialized everything that he could have had if he wasn’t such a coward, he was still there.


End file.
